This Day Will Soon Be At An End
by RoyalHeather
Summary: Murtagh exiled himself because he believed he'd only hurt Nasuada. Now that he knows she doesn't feel the same, all he can do is stand back and watch Time take its toll. Vignette-style fic covering 50 years. Lots of angsty shouting and dragon hugging.
1. Preface

Time heals everything.

Whoever came up with that was the biggest damn liar on the planet.


	2. 1 year, 5 months, 22 days later

The stars of their self-imposed exile were bright in the midnight sky. Murtagh stared up at them as he lay on the dying grass. _Do you think they're up there?_

Thorn, stretched out on the ground beside him, did not turn his head to look at the stars, but used Murtagh's eyes instead. _Who?_

_The dead. Watching over us._

Steam puffed around them as Thorn let out a great_ whuff!_ of hot air into the biting cold. _Does it matter?_

_Not really._ Murtagh sighed, looking up at the spill of frosty gems across the heavens. _But it'd be nice to know someone cared._ The anger inside him twisted, clenched painfully, and his throat felt tight.

_I care. _Wordless concern and comfort emanated from Thorn.

Murtagh rolled on his side to face his dragon, Thorn's head almost as long as his body. Murtagh reached a hand up, ran his fingers along the soft strip of skin under Thorn's eye. _I know, buddy, I know. It's just…_ He stopped, unable to express himself.

Thorn rumbled deep in his throat and moved his head closer to Murtagh, jaw crumpling and flattening the blades of grass. _They don't matter. We have each other._

_We have each other._

It was their mantra, repeated to each other in times of anger and despair, and there had been times when the ferocious love behind that phrase had been the only thing between them and self-destruction. The scars on Murtagh's wrists itched and he crossed his arms tightly, knees pulling towards his chest.

Thorn's warmth was suddenly replaced with a rush of cold air as he jerked his head up. Murtagh looked up at him, saw his neck was arched, nostrils flared, his pupils contracted to slits. _Thorn?_

_Dragon. _

Murtagh scrambled to his feet, eyes raking the dazzled skies. _Where?_ Instinctively, he checked his mental walls. They were stronger than ever.

Thorn lurched to his feet as well, swinging around to stare at a point in the distance, neck stiff, tail twitching. Murtagh grabbed Zar'roc from his pack and moved to stand in between Thorn's massive front legs.

Something was indeed approaching – a dragon, lean and fine-boned, its color impossible to tell in the blued moonlight. It was a great deal smaller than Thorn, and through his dragon's eyes, Murtagh could tell its rider was a woman. The dragon backwinged and landed a good distance away. Murtagh slid Zar'roc a couple inches out of its sheath, his fingers taut around the wire-wrapped handle.

And then the mental touch he'd been expecting came, but it was a question, not an attack.

_Murtagh?_

He'd only ever known one woman with a mind like that.

…_Arya?_

_Murtagh!_ Her dragon bounded forward until it was only about a yard away from them, seemingly oblivious to Thorn's bared teeth. Arya swung herself to the ground, a circlet gleaming on her head, moonlight highlighting her face, her figure as perfect as ever. Momentary heat rushed through Murtagh before he gritted his jaw and flexed his fingers on Zar'roc's hilt.

"My God, Murtagh, how are you…" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened at whatever she could see of him.

"I'm…" Murtagh opened his mouth to respond and realized it had been over a year since he had spoken to anyone – had needed to speak at all. His lips and tongue felt clumsy, and it took him a couple of tries to speak. "I'm fine." The rasp of his voice was unrecognizable, and he cleared his throat violently. He nodded toward the dragon. "Didn't know you were a Rider."

Even in the quick glance Arya shot her dragon, her love and affection were evident. "This is Firnen. Third of the three eggs." Murtagh looked up at the two dragons. Firnen had his neck stretched tentatively towards Thorn, who had let his upper lip cover his teeth but was still tense and wary.

_Thorn, I…I think we can trust them._ But he didn't relax any more than his dragon did. Old habits die hard.

Arya's eyebrows were pulled up worriedly now. "Have you two been on your own for this entire time?"

What a pointless question. "Yeah. Where else would we be?"

"Murtagh, that's not –" Whatever she'd been about to say, she stopped herself. "So you haven't seen Nasuada?"

His stomach plummeted into what felt like icy-cold water. "No, I haven't…" _What's happened what's happened oh God oh God Thorn –_ "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" The way Arya hastened to reassure him seemed suspicious. "Nothing at all, I just thought you would…I was under the impression you were fairly close…"

Murtagh swallowed hard. "It was better for both of us that I…not be around."

Arya looked at him steadily. "I think maybe you should go see her."

He shook his head with a bitter laugh. "No. No, are you crazy? I'm probably the most hated person in the Empire. And she – she's –"

"She's the queen."

Murtagh gaped at Arya. Above him, Thorn growled softly and finally allowed Firnen to bump noses with him. "Queen?" he repeated faintly.

Arya nodded, a slight smile curving her sculpted lips. "I think you should go to her."

"I…" No. _No._ This was in direct violation of everything he'd been telling himself for the past year and a half, that she didn't need him, no one needed him, he was doing the world a favor by staying away…_Thorn, what do we do?_

Thorn lowered his head until one great eyeball was level with Murtagh's view. _You miss her._

_I'm bad for her._

_Murtagh – _

"She misses you, Murtagh," said Arya quietly. "I'm sure of it."

Unbidden, a bubble of hope sprang to life in Murtagh's chest. She missed him, she still thought of him, they weren't forgotten…

Smiling, Arya watched whatever was transpiring on his face. "Go to her."

This time Murtagh didn't hesitate. Thorn was already kneeling and he scrambled up, nearly flinging himself into the saddle. Screw what the others thought, Nasuada missed him and that was all that really mattered…

He wasn't about to let Arya into his head, so he had no idea what she was thinking. But Firnen's triumphant bugle followed him and Thorn up into the night sky.


	3. 1 year, 5 months, 23 days later

Outside of Uru'baen, Murtagh used Thorn's mind as a mirror and tried to clean himself up. He could use magic to patch his clothes, comb his hair and shave, clean the dirt off. But short of a complete illusion, there was nothing he could do about the weight he'd lost or the circles under his eyes. Hopefully Nasuada would be able to see past those.

They'd arrived at night, sneaking into one of the dark pockets created by the rocky overhang. Now the rising sun was bathing the land in lemon-colored light, but Murtagh and Thorn stayed under the cliff, where the purple shadows dulled their colors to deep maroon and black.

Murtagh swallowed and watched the towers of Uru'baen glitter. It didn't matter what this city was now; it still gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Too soon, too soon_, he wanted to cry. He needed more time…

Thorn crouched next to him with a faint whine. Murtagh put a hand at the soft juncture of neck and jaw, scratched lightly. _I'm sorry, pal._

_I don't like it,_ Thorn confessed, nostrils flaring. _This city reeks._ Murtagh caught flashes of memory from him, cowering citizens, flaming catapults, battling Shruikan, the towering form of Galbatorix as seen through a baby dragon's eyes…

_Shh._ Murtagh scratched harder, remembered instead Thorn's hatching and the moment they'd first touched. Thorn joined him in replaying the memory, helping him reaffirm their bond.

_It's fine,_ said Murtagh. _We can do this. There's nothing to be scared of, it's all just in our heads._ He conjured up a vision of Nasuada, not hurt and crying like he'd last seen her, but as a queen, draped in purple, glorious and regal. _We'll be fine._

_They'll run,_ growled Thorn, a thin stream of smoke trickling from his nostrils. _They'll all be afraid._

_Screw them,_ said Murtagh, trying to sound more confident than he felt. _We're not here for the civilians._ He checked Zar'roc at his side, his wards, his mental shields. Everything seemed in order…_Ready, pal?_

Grunting, Thorn knelt down so Murtagh could climb into the saddle. _Ready as I'll ever be._ The dragon couldn't stand all the way up; he would crush Murtagh against the underside of the overhang. Thorn was forced to move in an awkward half-crawl until they were fully out of the shadows.

Together they paused, letting their eyes adjust to the brilliant autumn sun. The reflection off Thorn's scales was blinding, and Murtagh muttered a quick spell to dim his light intake. Right then, cries rose up from the sentries on the walls, and Thorn and Murtagh went rigid as statues.

_Goddammit, I am a _Rider._ I should not be this afraid. _But the blare of a horn from one of the towers nearly startled him into drawing Zar'roc before he remembered that drawing his sword was the _last_ thing he should do. Thorn huffed, attempting to calm his human's jittery nerves, but the dragon was so on-edge himself there was little he could do. _Blast it, Thorn. We just have to grit our teeth and do it. _

Simultaneously they breathed in, Thorn's chest expanding under Murtagh's legs like a giant bellows, and then Thorn bounded forward, his hind legs propelling them into the sky.

The horn rang out again as they circled the city, and it confused Murtagh, because if it was a warning then why didn't he see any soldiers gathering? Instinctively he reached out to judge the mood of the city, but the presence of multiple minds was immediately overwhelming and he retreated behind his barriers, fingers clutching the front ridge of the saddle. Thorn turned, banking into the curve that would take them to the landing ledge next to the palace, and the movement felt so easy, like nothing had changed since they lived here, that for a second Murtagh felt nauseous. Thorn dropped down, landing on the marble tiles with a clatter of claws against stone, and again it was familiar, too familiar, a movement pulled from the worst year of his life. He knew Thorn felt it too, because the second Murtagh slid down to the ground Thorn shook his shoulders like a dog trying to fling off water.

"Mur – ah, sir!" A captain marched onto the ledge, accompanied by two guards. One of them couldn't have been more than sixteen, and the spear in his hand was shaking visibly. Murtagh put a hand on Thorn's leg and tried to look less grim. "What brings you here?"

"I –" Once again, Murtagh's voice came out as a scratchy rasp, and he had to hack savagely to clear his throat. The boy guard paled. "I need to see the queen."

Under his helmet, the captain's eyes narrowed. "You will have to allow a magician or spellcaster to examine your thoughts –"

_F—k them!_ Murtagh nearly shouted, but managed to keep a rein on himself. Thorn's snarl, however, expressed much the same sentiment. The captain reached for his sword and Murtagh was preparing to kill them all with magic and then fly away, goddammit, he'd known this would happen, this was why they'd stayed away in the first place, when a woman commanded "Stop!"

Heart pounding, Murtagh raised his eyes to the balcony that overlooked the platform.

There she was.

Nasuada.

Being queen suited her. She stood straight and tall in ochre brocade, the sun gleaming on her coffee-colored skin, the thin band of gold encircling her head, every inch as regal as Murtagh had imagined her. But he could see past that, see how her full lower lip trembled and the way her fingers gripped the railing…

"Your Majesty." The captain and his two guards dropped to one knee. But Murtagh had never had to kneel for anyone but Galbatorix, and so he remained standing. His throat felt dry and he had to squint into the rising sun but more than anything he just felt a profound _rightness._ Hadn't he known this was where Nasuada was meant to be, right from the moment he'd met her?

"Captain Garven!" The power in Nasuada's voice made him happy, it just _did_, he couldn't explain why. "Escort Murtagh Shur'tugal to me at once."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Garven and the guards got to their feet, standing aside so Murtagh had a clear path to the door. "Shur'tugal?"

Suddenly Murtagh's legs didn't seem to want to work. It was too much, he realized, coming back here and seeing her again and dear God this was his first time inside a building in over a year…

_It'll be fine._ Hot breath wafted over him as Thorn lowered his head to touch his muzzle to the top of Murtagh's head. _Just go._

Murtagh sucked in a short breath, realized his aching fingers were still clenched on Zar'roc's hilt and slowly unwrapped them. _Are you sure?_

The tip of Thorn's nose brushed the nape of Murtagh's neck. _Go._

_Right. I can do this._ Murtagh lifted his head, straightened his spine, walked forward. The soldiers fell into place behind him, armor clinking, and the second Murtagh stepped through the doorway into the hallway and cold shadow he didn't know whether to feel like a prisoner or a leader and neither one was right. _Thorn!_ He couldn't help it, he stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face his dragon. Thorn was seated on his haunches, glittering wine-red in the sunlight.

_I'm right here._ Thorn tilted his head, eyelids half-shut, and if he were human he'd be smiling. _I'm with you, buddy._

_Just…just don't go anywhere._ Murtagh forced himself to turn and actually walk _away_ from his dragon, augh no this felt wrong…He didn't realize how tense his shoulders were until they began to ache and he realized his shoulderblades were nearly touching. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax as they turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs. Murtagh automatically skipped the one half-step that always tripped him up, and then stumbled over the next three steps when he realized he'd done it without thinking.

"Sir?" Garven's tone was neutral, but Murtagh could imagine his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he snapped, and climbed the rest of the staircase stiff-backed. Thorn was humming in his mind, a soothing bass, and Murtagh tried to expel his anger in a deep sigh before he was in front of her…

The stairs opened up into a smallish sitting room, a fountain in one wall and an arching window looking over the landing platform. Nasuada stood on the balcony, and without Murtagh's spell the sunlight would be too bright for him in the darkness of the room, but with it he could see her clearly, all golden and dark brown.

"Dismissed, Captain Garven."

"Your Majesty." There was more clinking of mail, more clunking bootsteps, and then the door shut and it was just the two of them in the room, and Thorn outside.

Nasuada was the first to break the silence. "You look different."

"So do you." Her brows contracted, and Murtagh realized she hadn't understood it as a compliment. "Better, I mean. You look good. Being queen…"

"Wasn't your hair black?"

"Galbatorix made me dye it."

"Ah."

They stared at each other for a long time, the silence growing, stretching – _Thorn, help me, what do I say? _– it was quiet, just the wind outside – _Tell her how you feel_ – and Murtagh was about to open his mouth when Nasuada spoke.

"Why'd you come back?"

"I –" How was he supposed to tell her, when he hardly knew himself? "I missed you."

She stepped towards him, out of the sunlight, and now he could really see her expression, even if he couldn't understand it. "Then why did you leave?"

"How could I stay?" She understood, didn't she – he'd thought she did… "I'd – I'd just cause pain…"

"Then why did you come back?" repeated Nasuada, her voice shaking, and somehow Murtagh got the feeling that this wasn't how things were supposed to happen at all…

"Don't – don't you want me?"

She just looked at him with those big dark eyes, and somehow she was vulnerable and somehow she wasn't… "I don't know."

Murtagh closed his eyes, let his head fall. Thorn hummed again, low, encouraging. Somehow Murtagh managed to raise his head and say, "But Arya said you missed me."

"Arya?" Nasuada frowned again. "She said that?"

"Yes!" Things weren't adding up, this _definitely_ wasn't how it should be going. "She found me and Thorn, she told us we should go see you…"

"Huh." Nasuada propped a hand on one hip, looked to the side. "I wonder why she said that…" Murtagh stayed silent, trying to quell the rising disappointment and frustration inside him, until she turned back to him. "What else did she tell you?"

Murtagh shrugged. "That's about it." Nasuada was still looking at him funny; to distract her, Murtagh cast around for another subject. "How's Eragon?"

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. "You – you don't know?"

"Know what?" Goddammit, not again –

"Eragon's gone. Him and Saphira. They went east to find a place to raise the dragon eggs. No one's heard from them since."

"He – wait – _what?_" Murtagh stared at Nasuada, sure he'd missed some crucial piece of information. Thorn's attention was suddenly razor-sharp. "He _left?_"

"Mm-hm." Nasuada nodded, looking tired for the first time. "With some of the eggs."

"But –" What the _hell?_ "We need those eggs! How does he know he's not going to die and they're not going to get crushed, or, or –"

"I don't know." Nasuada shrugged. "According to him, there was nowhere to safely raise them in Alagaesia."

Murtagh caught himself on the verge of profanity and stopped himself, raking his hands through his hair instead. "What else have I missed?"

Nasuada shrugged again, playing with her cuff. "I survived three assassination attempts –" dammit, he'd been right to warn Eragon "– Arya's a Rider as well as queen of the elves, but I think you already know that –" no, he hadn't known she was queen, what _was_ this "– and the dwarves and the urgals were added to the pact with the dragons." She looked curiously at his blank surprise. "You didn't know?"

"No, of course I didn't, it was just me and Thorn in the bloody wild!" _Thorn, how the hell did you not notice that there was a change in the pact?_

_I knew _something_ had changed, I just wasn't sure what. We both had other things on our mind at that time, if you'll recall. _

_Ugh, yes, I know._ He returned to Nasuada and found she was staring at him with an odd mixture of shock and pity. "What?"

"Just you and Thorn in the wild?" She took a couple steps closer to him, brow wrinkled in anxiety. "Murtagh, after you left, where did you _go?_"

He shrugged. "North. Around the elven border. Where there weren't any people."

"And you were on your own?"

"It was just me and Thorn, yeah." It was his turn to be confused as he looked down on her worried face. "Look, I don't see the prob –"

"You were alone for over a _year_?"

"No, I wasn't alone, I had Thorn, I keep telling you that –" And then he saw her eyes were filling up with tears. "What?" This wasn't right, she shouldn't be crying, especially not over _him_ – "Nasuada?"

She shook her head, looking away and wiping her eyes in a futile effort to hide her tears, and if there was one thing he hated it was seeing her weak like this, it reminded him too much of – of then… "Nasuada?" he repeated, gentler this time, and raised a hand to brush her elbow.

She leaned into his touch – maybe she didn't mean to, but she did – and somehow before he knew it he'd pulled her into a hug and he hadn't realized how much his arms were aching for her until now. She was stiff and regal for all of two seconds and he was about to let go when she relaxed against him and even allowed her arms to go around his waist and the nearness of her was making it difficult for him to breath.

But it was only for a moment. Conscious of her rank, maybe (and maybe he smelled bad too – _dammit_, he thought he'd cleaned up all right), she gently disengaged herself from his arms and stepped back, smoothing down the front of her dress. There was a hint of extra brightness to her eyes, but other than that she looked perfectly composed.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

He hadn't thought about it. "Whatever you want me to." _Shut up, Thorn._

She raised one eyebrow at him, hands on her hips. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes!" Impulsively he stepped forward, taking one of her hands, which she made no move to pull away. "If you want me to go, I'll go, and if you want me to stay…" He leaned towards her, the empty space between their faces gradually shrinking. "I'll stay."

She was looking up at him, lips parted, and she wasn't drawing away. Unable to believe it, hardly daring to breathe, Murtagh leaned in even closer, eyes closing on their own…

And then he felt her hand on his chest, pushing him away, gentle but firm. Startled, he opened his eyes, stared at her. She looked like she was on the verge of tears again, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. "I'm sorry, Murtagh," she said. "But I can't."

"Why?" His own voice shook appallingly and he wrenched it under control. "Why? Because of what I've done?"

She looked up at him, sad. "That's a part of it. Murtagh, I'm sorry."

A part…? The floor was tilting, whirling away from under his feet. _Thorn…_

_I'm here, buddy. I'm here._

"If it's just a part…" he managed to say through numb lips.

"Murtagh, I'm queen, I can't just marry whomever I choose! And I don't think another Rider as ruler is the best thing…Plus, you're a Rider, and I'm human."

"So?" He knew what she meant, though…

"I – I thought Riders didn't age…"

"They don't." His words seemed to echo strangely in his own ears. "We don't."

"Well, then." Nasuada looked up at him, trying so hard to pretend she knew what she was doing. "If you don't age, and I will…"

"It doesn't matter!" Some last desperate burst of energy forced Murtagh's legs to carry him forward, made him seize Nasuada's face in one hand and her hand in the other. "It doesn't matter, we'll enjoy the time we have together, and I'll be working on magic so that I can keep you young, the Eldunari can help and you won't ever have to get old –"

"Murtagh, stop." Her voice cut across his words and he stared at her, desperate. "We can't have another ruler who lives forever, can't you see? That's what started this whole mess!"

"But it's different, you'll be a good queen, who wouldn't –"

"I said _stop._" Her eyebrows drew down and her lips were pressed together even though they were trembling. "Do you know what you're offering me? What you're tempting me with? Murtagh, this can't happen!"

So that was it, then. She'd never wanted him, not the way he wanted her. Murtagh released her, fell back a couple of steps. "Well, then I guess that's all we have to say to one another…"

"Where are you going?"

"Where else?" He backed up another few steps, towards the door. "Back to the wild."

"Murtagh, don't!" The fear in her voice was the only thing that stopped him from running out of there. She stood in the middle of the room, hands twisted in her skirt. "Don't – don't go back…"

He wanted to leave, he wanted to flee, he wanted Thorn to take them a million miles away…but for her sake he stood there. "Then what should I do?"

"Just stay," she said, desperate in her turn. "Stay for a little while. I – I might have a job for you. Just please…stay here."

He'd said he'd do whatever she wanted him to. "Fine," Murtagh managed to say. "I won't go."

"Thank you," breathed Nasuada. "And – I'm sorry…"

"It's fine." Murtagh hardly knew what he was saying, he just wanted out, out of this room, out of this palace, out of this godforsaken city – "Don't worry about it."

"Murtagh –"

But he was out, through the door, nearly falling down the stairs, ignoring a startled Garven, tearing through the mercifully short hallway and into the blazing sunshine where Thorn waited, crouched and ready to take off. Murtagh climbed up, nearly threw himself into the saddle, not even bothering to strap himself in but leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Thorn's neck as far as they would go…

_Thorn, let's go!_

The great red wings rose up on either side of him and they lifted into the sky, wind whipping at Murtagh's hair and tearing moisture from his eyes. He buried his face in the hard red scales, gripped harder with arms and legs.

_She doesn't want me…she never wanted me at all…because of what I've _done…

_Shhhh. _Thorn's voice was deep, comforting, even though the rejection stung him too. _It's all right._

_No, it isn't._ But Murtagh swallowed hard and tried to pretend it was.

_I love you, Thorn._

_I love you, too._


	4. 1 year, 5 months, 24 days later

**1 year, 5 months, 24 days later**

Murtagh wanted leave, to fly away and never come back. But he'd promised Nasuada he'd return. So the next morning they flew back to Uru'baen, Thorn fretting the entire way.

_You'll just get hurt again._

_No, I won't. I know what to expect._

_Your mind does, but your heart doesn't._

_Bullsh-t, Thorn. I can take care of myself._

_Can you?_ When Murtagh didn't answer, Thorn continued, _Murtagh, you're my brother and I'm going to watch out for you, even if you don't want me to and especially when you can't!_

_All right, all right, calm down…_ Murtagh felt guilty enough about the pain he'd put Thorn through, and he knew he owed him his life. For Thorn's sake, he tried to come up with a compromise. _Okay, if you think I'm getting in too far over my head…you have permission to come grab me and fly me out._

Thorn chuckled, a deep sound in the back of his throat. _I hope you mean that, because I will do it._

_Yeah._ Murtagh couldn't help smiling, even if it was only a little one. _Only give me a few minutes' warning so I can get out into the open._

_Agreed. _

They flew over Uru'baen again, landing on the same ledge. This time Garven was waiting for them, and he escorted Murtagh to Nasuada without a word. She was in her study, seated behind a large table, her hair braided on top of her head, perfect and regal and a hundred other things that made his heart press painfully against his ribs. The second he entered the room, her eyes widened and she made a quick movement as if to stand up, but just as swiftly suppressed it. Instead, she gestured to the small girl sitting next to her. "Elva, please leave us."

The dark-haired girl got up and walked out, but as she brushed past Murtagh she looked up at him and he caught a glimpse of violet eyes _dear gods Thorn what _is_ she?_ Murtagh shivered and turned his attention back to Nasuada.

She was watching him, measuring him, possibly looking for something. Murtagh stayed as cool and casual as he ever had and strolled up to her desk, looking down into her upturned face. She was beautiful, so beautiful it hurt, but he'd be damned if he was going to let any of that show on his face. "You said you wanted me back," he said. "Well, here I am. Command me, my lady."

Nasuada winced, looked away. "I wish you wouldn't talk like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not like you." Abruptly she stood, walked away, the velvety-blue train of her dress whispering after her. Murtagh leaned back against the table and watched her. Something was burning inside of him, something deep and fiery that had to come out –

_Murtagh, no. You'll regret it._

It was pushing inside of him, trying break through his sternum, and he didn't care what his dragon thought, it had to get out –

_Murtagh – _

"Tell me once, and tell me for all, Nasuada," said Murtagh. "Do you or do you not have feelings for me? Because everything you told me yesterday, that's all a lot of logical crap. Yeah it makes sense, but no one, _no one_, not even the goddamn elves, thinks about love logically. And if I'm going to be around here anymore I gotta know."

She'd stopped and was standing with her back to him. Murtagh saw her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, saw her arms move to wrap around herself. At last she spoke in a low voice. "I can't."

"Can't what? Tell me?"

"Can't have feelings for you!" she said, turning around. There was a hard, despairing look on her face. Murtagh didn't like it – it reminded him too much of her captivity in Uru'baen.

"What do you mean, _can't_?"

"I mean I can't let myself love you, for all the reasons I mentioned yesterday!" She was breathing hard, her hands clenched into fists at her side. "Believe it or not, the mind can actually control the heart. So maybe if I wasn't as _emotional_ as you are –" that stung, he wasn't gonna lie "– then maybe I would. But I'm not a slave to my feelings, and I know what needs to be done."

"You –" Murtagh took a step towards her, stopped, shook his head. "You're forcing yourself not to love me?"

She looked at him steadily. "Yes."

That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Murtagh staggered back to lean against the table again, and Thorn's _I warned you_ wasn't smug but a worried croon.

"Then why do you still want me around?" he managed to say. "Huh?" He raised his head to look her in the eye, somehow pleased to see her eyes beginning to tear up again. "If you don't love me then why the _f—k_ do you care what happens to me?" More fire was building inside of him, dark and painful and –

"_WHY DO YOU CARE_?"

His scream reverberated off the stone walls. Murtagh stared at Nasuada, and it was _his_ turn to be breathing hard, _his_ turn to have his hands balled in straining fists at his side. Nasuada swallowed and looked back at him, eyes glistening.

"Because I'm still your friend," she said, voice breaking. "Because you did everything you could for me, and I'm grateful. Because you still mean something to me, even if it's not the way you want, and I can't just let you destroy yourself like this!"

"No. No, this is pointless –"

"Murtagh –"

"– can't believe I came back for _this –_"

"Murtagh, _please –_"

"– screw this, I'm leaving, take me back to Thorn –"

"– just promise me one thing!"

He couldn't ignore her, not when her desperation was that evident. "What is it?"

"Don't go back to the wild?" Nasuada's hands were clasped in front of her chest, her eyebrows pulled up pleadingly. "I'm not asking you to stay around me, I understand if that's too painful, but _please –_" her breath hitched, making his heart throb in response "– please please _please_ don't go back out there on your own. It's not – it's not healthy for you. You need to be around others, doing something."

The best he could manage was a neutral expression. "Like what?" Thorn was interested, but Murtagh suspected it was only for his own sake, to provide a distraction.

"A – a job. I – I need someone. Someone to oversee all the magicians. There's a group formed of nearly all the magicians on Alagaesia under my orders, but they still need a leader. Someone powerful enough to control them, and watch all those who aren't part of the group." As she'd been speaking, her voice had been getting stronger, and Murtagh watched her slip back into her role as queen and didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad.

"So basically…constant surveillance of all the magicians?"

"What else would you have me do?" said Nasuada, rustling past him to take a seat at her desk. "Yes, I'm not completely happy with it. But it's necessary." Murtagh turned back to her and she arched her eyebrows at him, arms braced against the corners of the desk. "Murtagh, I would really appreciate it if you did this for me. Quite honestly, you're the only person in the kingdom who can."

_Thorn?_

_If we were…all right…if we were whole and unharmed and if none of this had ever happened, I would want nothing more than for it to be us, and us only. But maybe…maybe she's right. Maybe you do need other people, and something to do other than brood over your mistakes. _

_ Are you sure?_

_ …Yes. _

_ If this goes wrong, I'm blaming it all on you, buddy. _

_` I wouldn't have it any other way._

_ Okay. _Murtagh took a deep breath, returned to his surroundings. Nasuada was watching him carefully, and the second he looked at her he knew he couldn't live the rest of his life without seeing her again. Even if it hurt to see her, even if it hurt to come back and know she would never want him the way he wanted her, it would hurt him even more to stay away. And apparently he didn't have to worry about her feelings anymore, either.

"Fine," he said. "I'll do it." _Happy, Thorn?_

_ Yes._

"Really?" Nasuada's face broke into a relieved smile, but there was a sort of satisfaction behind it, a sort of, _Yes, I did it!_ look. And maybe it should have put Murtagh off, but he just felt sad. "Well, then! I suppose the first thing is to figure out where you want to work from. Obviously you don't want to be here –" _well, obviously_ "– but what about Gil'ead?"

Gil'ead. Gil'ead, where he'd had to break Eragon and Arya out of the barracks prison. Gil'ead, where Galbatorix had used him like a puppet to kill Oromis. "No," he said. "Not Gil'ead."

She blinked at his refusal, but otherwise kept her composure. "Dras-Leona, maybe?"

"No!" Gods no, not that city. "Anywhere but there."

Nasuada looked at him curiously. "It's different now, we've eradicated any traces of Helgrind worship, the cathedral's completely gone –"

"I don't care." F—king devil city, he never wanted to see it again –

Nasuada made a _tch_ of annoyance and got up, walking to a large map spread across the wall. "Where do you suggest, then?"

Murtagh joined her, standing close enough to make his skin tingle. If he wanted, he could easily reach over and take her hand…

_No, Murtagh. _

He knotted his fingers behind him and focused his attention on the map. Of all the cities on there, there was only one he would want to spend any amount of time in…

"What about there."

"Ceunon?" Nasuada looked at him incredulously. "You couldn't have picked a more out-of-the-way location?"

Murtagh shrugged. The fact that it was so isolated was probably its number one draw. "Thorn and I could probably fly from there to here in a day and a half if we pushed ourselves." _A day at most,_ snorted Thorn. "And with those magic mirrors, even that shouldn't be necessary for communication."

"Yes, but…" Nasuada tapped her chin thoughtfully with one slim finger, and Murtagh was seized with an urge to take her hand and kiss it that he ruthlessly suppressed. "I don't know how effective you'll be, all the way up in the north…"

"I'll make it work," said Murtagh tonelessly.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," said Nasuada dryly. Murtagh looked at her in surprise, but before he could comment she continued, "It's also very close to the elves. Are you sure you want that?"

"Doesn't matter to me, honestly. It's not like they come out of their forest much anyway."

"Mm." Nasuada looked up at the map, considering. "Well, if it's what you want…"

It wasn't. He wanted to stay by her side and feel her arms around him and hear her tell him everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't fool enough to pine after what he couldn't get. "Yeah," he said. "It's what I want."

"Well then." Nasuada turned to face him, hands joined in front of her, and as much as she tried to put on a brave face he could see right through it. "Then that's it."

_That's it. Say goodbye to the wild, Thorn._

_ Already did. _


	5. 1 year 5 months 24 and a half days later

**1 year, 5 months, 24 and a half days later**

Nasuada kept them at Uru'baen until the afternoon, as there were technicalities concerning Murtagh's new position to be worked out, and then she insisted he stay to have lunch – according to her, he looked "starved." So he and Thorn didn't make it to Ceunon by nightfall; they ended up camping out in the middle of nowhere, and quite honestly, Murtagh preferred it that way.

Thorn spat fire on the ground, burning up the grass and then trampling it down to create a warmed dragon-sized patch. The smell of burnt grass, smoky and slightly sweet, drifted past them as Thorn curled up, nearly the size of a small hill. Murtagh sat down with his back against the curve of Thorn's neck, closed his eyes.

For a little while the only sounds were the wind in the grass and their steady breathing. Thorn took approximately one breath for every three of Murtagh's; the deep _whoosh_ of air going in and out of his lungs sounded like the ocean.

Finally Murtagh sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position. _I don't know if we're ready for tomorrow, Thorn. _

_ Of course we are. _Thorn showed every bit of confidence a dragon should. _We've survived much worse. _

_ But we were different then. Thorn, I…I don't know if we made the right decision._

_ Do you trust me?_

_ Unequivocally._

_ Then trust that we made the right decision. Arya and Nasuada both have been telling us that it's not right for us to be on our own, and I'm starting to think they're right. _Thorn sighed, and there was a definite note of sadness and regret to his mental tone. _I guess I was a fool to think I could fix you on my own._

_No. _Murtagh leaned forward, frowning, a hand on Thorn's neck. _No, Thorn. You saved me. If it wasn't for you I'd be dead…or worse. _

_ But I'm not enough._

Murtagh moved onto his hands and knees so he was looking Thorn right in one wine-red eye. _You'll always be enough. Hey. You hear me? Always. _

Thorn raised his head and turned it to face Murtagh, who sat back on his heels and placed a hand on Thorn's broad nose. And whatever doubts they had, whatever fears or anxieties or misgivings, were for a few moments inconsequential.


	6. 1 year, 6 months, 12 days later

**1 year, 6 months, 12 days later**

"So I think the only rogue magicians in Narda are fairly harmless," said Nasuada from the mirror. "You might want to check, all the same."

"Yeah. I'll get on that."

"Oh, and Murtagh, by the way, it looks like Arya's going to be flying down in a day or two. You might want to keep an eye out for her."

"Right." Arya. The thought of her reminded him of something, some buried grievance, some nagging issue or misunderstanding…

"She'll probably just drop in to say hi. I don't think anything major's happening. Right, that should be it." Murtagh heard a faint _tap-tap-tap_ as Nasuada drummed her fingers on her table. "Until next time, Murtagh."

"Until next time," he murmured, and then the mirror went blank.


	7. 1 year, 6 months, 13 days later

Firnen and Arya touched ground outside of Ceunon just after sunrise. Murtagh and Thorn were there to greet them, waiting on the small knoll by the northern gate. Thorn yawned widely, light glinting off his dagger-sharp fangs, his tongue curling at the tip. _They must have been flying through the night._

_Mm._ Murtagh stifled a yawn behind his own fist. _Darn it Thorn, you made me yawn._

_Hehehe. _Thorn shuffled his wings on his back, settled into a more comfortable position. _And here they are._

Firnen walked towards them – cautiously, he must have remembered their first meeting. He was still noticeably smaller than Thorn, enough so that he had to stretch his neck to touch noses with him. Arya slid off Firnen's back, walked over to Murtagh. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

May…may good fortune…something about rule…Dammit, his ancient language was getting rusty. "Yeah, um…hi?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I just assumed…" Arya bit her lip. "It's an elven greeting, Eragon knew it so I figured…"

"Yeah, I think he spent a _little_ more time in Ellesmera than I did," said Murtagh. "You never know, I could have learned it and then it just slipped my mind."

Arya's lips pressed together in a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see you've got your sense of humor back. How are things here?"

"Fine."

"Did…did you talk to Nasuada?"

"Yes." That was it. Now he remembered why he was mad at Arya.

_Easy, Murtagh…_

_ I've got it. It's fine._

"You know," he said, trying to keep his voice casual, "when you told me Nasuada missed me…did you get that from her? Because she said she hadn't talked to you." Arya went very still, eyes focused down and away. "And quite honestly, I don't think she'd missed me very much."

Arya let out a long, slow breath. "No," she said at last. "I hadn't talked to her. That was…conjecture."

"A lie, you mean."

"A statement I was hoping would be true." She raised her eyes to his, fierce and catlike. "It was the only thing I could think of that would get you to go back to civilization."

Get him…to go back? Up above them, Thorn turned his head from Firnen to look down on Murtagh and Arya. "But…why?"

"Murtagh, you didn't see yourself," said Arya. "You were a wreck. Whatever you did during that year and a half, it wasn't good for you."

_That is not your concern,_ growled Thorn, crouching next to Murtagh. _Why did you lie to him?_

"Because I knew just _telling_ you you'd have to go would be no good," said Arya. "You're stubborn, Murtagh. Do you think you would have listened?"

"Maybe! Maybe I would have, if you'd just tried to explain!" When Arya didn't answer, just looked sadly at him, he shouted, "At least it's better than getting my hopes up for _nothing!_"

"I'm sorry, Murtagh," said Arya quietly. "I really thought it was for the best."

He didn't have words for his frustration and anger, could only stand there fuming with one hand on a growling Thorn's neck and wish desperately that things had turned out differently.

"I really am sorry," repeated Arya. And she looked it.

"It's all right." Murtagh sighed, running a finger along Thorn's scales. "You couldn't have known how things would turn out."

"All the same…"

"But yes, all the same, a little more honesty and a little less matchmaking would have been appreciated." Despite his efforts to sound polite, some rancor still seeped through.

_What's done is done,_ said Firnen, his voice unexpectedly deep. _There's no point in dwelling on it now._

"Yeah, and that would be a bloody good argument if the past didn't affect what was happening _right now,_" said Murtagh. "Your past determines your future."

"But you can't change it by thinking about it," said Arya softly. "No one can. The best any of us can do is learn from our mistakes, and move on."

"Learn from –?" Murtagh took a step towards her, somewhere between incredulous and infuriated. "Mistakes? You call what I did _mistakes?_ Those were deliberate actions that I am never, _never_ going to be able to fix! My 'mistakes' harmed so many people –"

_Murtagh, Murtagh, shh…_

"That's not what I meant, Murtagh, you know that –"

_Calm your mind, Shur'turgal._

"Don't tell me to calm my mind, you're not my f—king dragon!" snapped Murtagh. There was a moment where all three of them stared at him, and then he hid his face in Thorn's neck. "Sorry. Dammit, forget I said that."

"Only if you forget it as well," said Arya, and there was a hint of amusement in her voice. Murtagh raised his head to look at her, and her lips were curling in a little smile. "I mean it. The last thing I need is for you to be beating yourself up about this."

"Don't worry, I've got plenty of other things to beat myself up about." The remark came out without thought, and he regretted it the instant he saw sadness appear on her face.

"I really wish you wouldn't," she said quietly. "We all do. Those of us who care."

"Yeah? And who's that?"

Arya looked at Thorn, and something passed between them. "I do," she said. "Nasuada does. And Thorn. More than anything."

_She's not exaggerating. I really do._

_ I know, buddy. I know._

Murtagh sighed, letting a finger tick down a row of Thorn's scales. "Okay," he said. "I'll try."

"Thank you," said Arya, smiling. She nodded to him before striding back to Firnen and swinging herself onto his back. "Farewell."

Firnen unfolded his wings to take off. As he launched himself into the sky, Murtagh reached out with his mind to Arya, hesitant, still unused to mental contact with anyone other than Thorn. _And Arya? Thanks. For caring._

Her reply came back to him, tinged with a sad sort of happiness. _Then you're very, very welcome. _


	8. 3 years, 9 months, 4 days later

**3 years, 9 months, 4 days later**

"So I don't think it should be a problem," said Nasuada from the mirror. "As long as they continue to answer to you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Murtagh, one elbow propped on his desk. The large room he shared with Thorn had turned into a workspace as well as sleeping quarters. "Only problem is, what happens if the guilds get too powerful? They won't listen to me forever." He rested his chin on his hand, reflected. "I wouldn't."

Nasuada shrugged. "We'll fix that problem when it happens," she said. "If it happens. Besides, I don't think you need to worry much. You're a Rider, _and_ you know the Word. They won't challenge you."

"Galbatorix was a Rider who knew the Word, and look what happened to him."

Nasuada's eyes half-closed and her jaw set as she considered. "Yes, but you're not a tyrannical despot. You're an archagent whose actions are sanctioned by the queen."

Murtagh looked down at the map on his desk, drew small circles with his finger around Ilirea. "S'not really the point though, is it?"

Nasuada tapped her fingernails on the arms of her chair, then shrugged. "Whatever. There's no point worrying about it unless it actually threatens to happen." She turned her gaze on him, suddenly sharp. "Which it isn't, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no." Actually, after the initial outrage, the magicians had adapted to the new restrictions fairly quickly and without little fuss. He supposed it didn't take people long to forget what freedoms they'd lost.

"Well, good." Nasuada sighed, rubbing her temple with her fingers. "God, I'd hate to deal with another uprising."

Yeah. Murtagh didn't really want to handle another one either.

"Is that everything, then?"

"Yes. Well…" Nasuada looked away, biting her lip and running a finger up the arm of her chair. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you. It's – well, it's pretty important."

"Okay." Murtagh shifted his chair closer, apprehensive about her tone, if not her words. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath, looked him right in the eyes. "I'm – I'm engaged," she said, forcing the word out.

Everything went blank.

Blank and far away.

"To – to be married?"

Looking down, she nodded. "I thought it only fair that you should know. I owe you my honesty, Murtagh. And I didn't think you'd appreciate hearing it from someone else – or me beating around the bush."

"Uhm." No. No, she was right. Much better that he hear it like this, from her, all in one shot. A clean blow.

Thorn's presence in his mind, never gone, was suddenly much closer and stronger.

"Who is he?" Murtagh heard himself say, his voice fuzzy and distant in his ears.

Nasuada shrugged. "An earl from Surda. He's related to Orrin, his mother was Orrin's first cousin. It's – it's a good match."

There was nothing in her face, her voice, that suggested enthusiasm or happiness or anything. He knew she wasn't cruel enough to gloat in front of him, but all the same… "Do you love him?"

Nasuada looked at him sadly. "What answer can I give you that will make you happy?"

She was right. Again.

Murtagh leaned back in his seat, tried to twirl a feather pen through his fingers and realized his hands were shaking. Part of him supposed he should say something, but nothing really came to mind.

"Murtagh?" Nasuada's face in the mirror was worried, of all things. "Are – are you all right? Should I not have told you this?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically.

"No, you're not…Oh God, I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry."

"No, you should have. I would have felt…betrayed if you hadn't."

"Really?"

"Yeah. This way…I know you value me enough to tell me face to face."

"Okay…" She didn't look sure, but let the subject drop.

Both of them sat in silence, and then Nasuada exhaled and tapped her palms against the arms of her chair. "Well, I – I have to be going. Until next time, Murtagh."

" 'Kay."

"And – I'm sorry."

"S'all right. S'your duty as queen."

"All the same…"

"Don't worry about it." She was about to end the spell when Murtagh blurted out, "Wait!"

Nasuada turned back to him, eyes wide, lips parted. "What?"

"When – when's the wedding?"

She bit her lip, considered. "Half a year, maybe….Look, I really do have to go."

"Yeah. Yeah, go ahead."

"Bye, Murtagh." And then the mirror went completely blank.

_Oh, Murtagh…_ Thorn, out hunting, was already airborne. _Do you want me back? _

_ I…I don't know._

_ I'm coming, okay?_

_ Okay. _

Murtagh let the pen fall from his fingers, but other than that didn't move from his chair. There was a horrible sort of blank emptiness to his mind, an open space in which a single thought could reverberate freely…

A rush of wind announced Thorn's return as the dragon lowered himself onto the great stone slab next to the house. Wings folded, he lowered his head and ducked through the open wall and into the room. He curled up behind Murtagh, head resting on the floor next to his chair. _How are you?_

_ I'm not really sure._

Gently, Thorn began to pick through his mind, trying to sort out the tangled threads of emotions and thoughts. _You're stunned, mostly._

_ Yeah, that sounds about right._

_ And a little hurt._

_ Mm._

_ More than a little?_

_ I…_ Murtagh covered his face in one hand, wrapped his other arm around his stomach. _F—k, Thorn, I just don't know! _

Thorn crooned deep in his throat, raised his head to next to Murtagh's. Biting back something that might have been a sob, Murtagh circled an arm under Thorn's jaw, turned his face against Thorn's cheek where the scales were small and almost papery against his skin. Thorn hummed again and leaned into the touch. He smelled of musk and smoke and the outdoors and something else that was definitely _dragon._

_I'm sorry,_ he said. _ I know it doesn't help, but…I'm sorry all the same._

_No, Thorn, it does, I just…_Murtagh exhaled, closed his eyes tighter. _I just don't know. That's how I feel. Like I don't know. Like nothing's certain._

Thorn's throat was vibrating with his humming, and he pushed his head closer to Murtagh's. He didn't say anything – there really wasn't anything to be said. But the two of them sat there for a long, long time, and when Murtagh's arm got tired Thorn turned his head so Murtagh's forehead was pressed against his and Murtagh could wrap his arms around Thorn's head that way. Murtagh let out a long, slow breath, eyes closed.

_I'm sorry, Thorn._

_ Sorry for what?_

_ Sorry that you have to put up with all my crap. _

Thorn chuckled, a deep sound that rolled around in his throat. _You are my Rider. What else would I do?_

_ Hell if I know. Something useful._

Thorn snorted, and warm, dragon-scented air puffed around Murtagh. _This is extremely useful. _


	9. 4 years, 3 months, 15 days later

"Am I boring you?"

Murtagh wrenched his mind back from Uru'baen, back from Nasuada, back from the fact that this was _her wedding night_ and instead to the whore straddling his lap. "No," he said, reaching up to run his fingers through a strand of her hair – blonde, blonde like bleached straw and sunshine. "No, you're not."

"Mm." She leaned closer to him, arms winding around his neck, all warmth and cheap perfume and pouting lips. "Something on your mind?"

_Nasuada._ He shrugged. "You could say that."

She kissed his jaw, his neck, and he couldn't tell if the sudden heat he was feeling was because of her or the high alcoholic content of whatever he'd been drinking. He put the bottle down, just in case.

"I could help you forget, you know," whispered the whore, her teeth grazing his ear. "Whatever it is that's…on your mind."

"Please," he managed to agree. And he had to give her credit, she really tried, and she was good too, but all the same it wasn't enough. Because at no point during the night did he ever forget the fact that Nasuada was in somebody else's arms.


	10. 11 years, 5 months, 2 days later

They were flying back to Uru'baen, Murtagh and Thorn. Nasuada wanted them there, to celebrate a decade of a Galbatorix-free kingdom. And Murtagh spent the entire flight thinking, _Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up. As you love your dragon, DO NOT GET YOUR HOPES UP._

_ That won't work,_ said Thorn mildly.

_Dammit, Thorn, I have to try. _Murtagh felt jittery, unsettled, and his fingers drummed out a nervous pattern on Thorn's scales. _Come on, she's _married._ With a _kid._ Do not – get – your hopes up!_

Thorn shook his head and began the descent into Uru'baen. This time there was more than just Captain Garven waiting for them – a whole platoon of soldiers was there, all on one knee as Murtagh climbed to the ground.

"Archagent!" The captain got to his feet with a clanking of metal. "Would perhaps care to see your quarters, sir, or –"

"I want to see the queen," blurted Murtagh.

The captain blinked. "Very well, sir. And what about your dragon?"

_Thorn?_

Thorn snorted, touched his nose to the top of Murtagh's head. _I think I will go see our living arrangements. Come find me when you're done. _

_ Okay._

_ Be careful, Murtagh. Don't lose your head. Or your heart._

_ Could you hold on to them for me, then?_

Thorn chuckled. _As long as you want, pal._

_Thanks. _Murtagh nodded to the captain, who struck the butt of his spear against the flagstones and began leading Murtagh out. The soldiers sprang to their feet and followed, all except the lucky four who were to direct Thorn to their rooms.

It seemed like the hallways of Uru'baen were endless. Murtagh shortened his stride to match the captain's and tried to keep from drumming his hands on his thighs. He had to see Nasuada, had to see how she'd changed, if she'd changed at all –

They stopped in front of a broad wooden door that the captain knocked on. "Your Majesty? Archagent Murtagh is here."

There was a beat of silence. And then, "Show him in, please."

Murtagh took a deep breath, smoothed down the front of his tunic. The captain opened the door, and he stepped through, eyes raking the room for Nasuada.

She wasn't hard to find.

She sat on a cushion in a fall of sunlight, dress glowing like rubies, skin warm and only a little less smooth. She was a little thicker, a little rounder around the breasts and hips, but her back was as straight as ever. She looked perfect, she looked regal, she looked…content.

"My lady." Murtagh ducked his head.

"Murtagh!" She got up with a rustle of fabric and walked over to him, actually holding her hand out and smiling. Murtagh hesitated before taking her hand and bowing his head over it, not daring to actually kiss her hand. His skin tingled and he hastily let go. "How are you?"

"Same as ever. And you?"

She smiled again. It wasn't a very big smile – it didn't even show teeth – but there was so much contentment and quiet joy behind it that his heart ached. "I'm good."

Someone delicately cleared their throat, and Murtagh whipped his head around to the other corner of the room. There sat the girl with those eerie purple eyes, now in her mid-teens, and clinging to her skirt was a little girl with bronze skin and Nasuada's deep brown eyes.

"Oh!" Nasuada extended a hand to the little girl. "Come here, sweetie. Come meet Mommy's friend."

Reluctantly, the little girl let go of Elva's skirt and sidled over to Nasuada, her giant eyes fixed on Murtagh the entire time. Something hard blocked Murtagh's throat as he looked down at her – maybe it was how much she looked like Nasuada, or the fact that _maybe_, in a different universe, she could have been his…

"Hey." Nasuada bent, picked up the girl and balanced her on her hip. "Ajira, this is Murtagh."

"Hello, Ajira," said Murtagh, smiling a little. But she hid her face in Nasuada's neck.

Nasuada laughed, reached up to turn her chin. "Aren't you going to say hello?  
>Thorn was interested as well. <em>Are all your hatchlings this quiet? <em>

_ Not usually, no._ "Is she always this shy?"

"No, usually she loves meeting people." Nasuada succeeded in turning Ajira's face towards Murtagh. "Now are you going to be a princess and greet him?"

And the girl – she couldn't have been more than six – straightened her back and lifted her chin _exactly the same way_ that Nasuada did. "Hello, Murtagh," she said, and even her child's lisp was regal.

He bowed his head, almost amused at this pint-sized princess. "Pleased to meet you, Your Highness."

Nasuada laughed and set Ajira down, playfully slapping her bottom. "Run along with Elva, now, sweetie. Go on."

The two of them exited the room, Ajira looking back at Murtagh as she left. Nasuada watched them until the door shut, and the love and affection on her face were so evident that Murtagh gave up that last little bit of hope he'd been holding onto. Because no matter how much he loved her he could never, ever ask her to leave her child. _You were right again, Thorn._

_ Sometimes I wish I wasn't._

"Well, she's got the queen thing down solid," said Murtagh.

Nasuada laughed again, returned to her seat. "That she does. I think she knew how to give orders before she learned to talk." Absently, she rearranged the folds of her skirt. "I swear, she is probably the most spoiled child in all of Alagaesia." Nasuada looked up at Murtagh, laughing. "And you know what? I don't regret it."

"You will when she's queen," said Murtagh wryly.

Nasuada made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "There'll be plenty of time to teach her well before then." Her face grew pensive. "Why not make her childhood the best it can be?"

That was something Murtagh had never known about Nasuada – her childhood. But he didn't think he could ask her about it now.

"Well," said Nasuada, turning back to him. "How are you? Are you satisfied with your rooms?"

Murtagh ran a hand through his hair. "I, uh, actually haven't seen them yet."

"Oh." Nasuada raised her eyebrows, but otherwise didn't comment. "How is Ceunon?"

"Cold."

"Well, it's bound to be, this time of year."

"Yeah. I like it though."

"I should hope so. You live there."

Murtagh laughed halfheartedly, and then found himself at a loss for what to say. Apparently so did Nasuada, because she just looked down, playing with a loose thread in the embroidery of her skirt.

"Well! I'm, uh, pretty tired from the flight, and I should probably go see to Thorn…"

"Oh! Oh, of course." Nasuada jumped up, hand extended again. "Sorry to have kept you this long."

"No, it's fine." Murtagh took her hand for as brief a time as possible, even though he wanted so badly to just hold on to it and never let go. "I…guess I'll see you at the dinner tonight?"

"Yes, probably." Nasuada nodded to him. "Until then?"

Murtagh dipped his head back in response. "Until then."

He turned and walked out, and as he was doing so he could have sworn he heard an intake of breath behind him, as if in preparation to speak, but Nasuada didn't say anything, and then he closed the door.


	11. 22 years, 10 months, 16 days later

They were going back to Uru'baen again. Why, Murtagh wasn't really sure.

Well, yes, actually, he knew why. There'd still been no word from Eragon or Saphira or any of the elves who had gone east with them, and everyone who was anyone was getting together in Uru'baen to discuss it.

What Murtagh wasn't sure about was why he and Thorn were going.

_Because we are a Rider and dragon, _grumbled Thorn, his wings sweeping through the early morning air. _We are the queen's archagent. Of course we're important._

_ No, I know that! _Murtagh pounded the saddle with a half-hearted fist. _I mean…why'd we agree to go?_

Thorn snorted, sending smoke to rush past Murtagh. _Can you imagine what would happen if we'd refused?_

_ Not much?_

_ Murtagh, do you not _want_ a chance to help decide the future? This is big, as big as killing Galbatorix. Do you not want some say in what will affect us?_

_ I fear I'll just make another bad decision – _

His mental voice was small, it cost him something to say that, and so it hurt when Thorn answered with a growl. _Stop it!_

_ Stop what?_

_ Thinking like that! Murtagh, are you always going to think only ill of yourself?_

_ What else is there to think?_

There was dead silence. Then Thorn folded his wings and plummeted to the ground.

_THORN! _yelled Murtagh, the wind screaming in his ears. _Thorn, what are you doing? _The ground was getting rapidly closer, everything was blurry and the ground was rushing towards them and _THORN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING – _

At the last second, Thorn snapped his wings out and they jerked away from the ground, Murtagh's neck snapping with the backlash. He groaned, rubbing his neck, sure he was going to feel that tomorrow, as Thorn landed. _Thorn, what the hell is going on?_

_ Get off my back._

_ What?_

_ Now. _

Completely bewildered, Murtagh slid off, landing to the ground with an ungainly _thud!_

_ Now stand in front of me._

_ Okay…_ Murtagh obeyed, walking to directly in front of Thorn, who lowered his head so he was looking Murtagh straight in the face. _Thorn, what…_

_ Murtagh, listen to me,_ said Thorn. _Out of all the candidates, out of all the humans and elves who had contact with my egg, who did I pick?_

_ …me._

_ Who?_

_ Me! _snapped Murtagh.

_ And do you know why?_

Murtagh was very much tempted to say, _Hell if I know,_ but felt Thorn would not take kindly to that comment. _Why?_

_ Because I believed you would be the best Rider for me. Because I, even as a baby, even when you were hurt and confused and only nineteen years old, had the potential to become truly great. Do you hear me? GREAT. _Thorn looked sadly at Murtagh. _Murtagh, how can I believe in you when you won't even believe in yourself? _

Sighing, Murtagh reached out a hand to place it against Thorn's nose. _Maybe once I could do great things, but now…I'm not so sure._

_ Have you ever actually tried?_

_I…_ Murtagh looked at Thorn, startled. _I guess I...haven't. _

Thorn cocked his head, a little smile curling the edges of his scaly mouth. _Maybe you should._


	12. 22 years, 10 months, 17 days later

**22 years, 10 months, 17 days later**

The heat from Ilirea rose up in waves to greet Murtagh and Thorn as they landed. The city never did well in summer – too much stone, and too little airflow.

Their welcoming committee was different yet again. At first Murtagh had thought it was Nasuada, but the slim female figure waiting for them, holding down her full skirts against the wind of Thorn's landing, was much younger. And although the only reason she looked familiar was because of her resemblance to Nasuada, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was.

"Your Highness," said Murtagh, nodding to Ajira as he dismounted. The princess laughed and strode forward, one hand held out.

"Oh, come, don't be so formal," she said, far too warmly. Murtagh took her hand in surprise, briefly ducked his head. "You're an old friend of my mother's, no need to bother with titles." She smiled brightly, and somehow it was _too _sincere. "I'm just Ajira. And you're just Murtagh."

_And I'm just Thorn,_ snorted Thorn, swinging his head down so he could look Ajira in the eye. She flinched away, eyes fixed on him warily, all warmth gone. _Correct?_

Ajira nodded jerkily before deliberately turning her back on Thorn, all her warmth directed at Murtagh. "Would you care to be shown your rooms?" She stepped closer to Murtagh, looking up at him. "I could show you them now…if you wish." Her voice dropped to a breathy whisper.

As if Murtagh's instinct wasn't warning enough, Thorn's pupils had contracted to slits. "I think I know my way around the palace, thank you."

"Oh." Ajira's smile faltered for only a second. "Of course." She drew back, curtsying a little. Murtagh walked past her without a second glance.

_Well, she grew up well, _said Thorn, winging his way to their rooms. He was laughing.

_Be nice,_ snapped Murtagh, irritated for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Instantly Thorn was wary. _You don't…_like_ her, do you?_

_ What? Gods Thorn, no. But she's…she's Nasuada's daughter. And our future queen. Have some respect. _

_ I am a _dragon,grumbled Thorn. But he acquiesced.


	13. 22 years, 10 months, 18 days later

**22 years, 10 months, 18 days later**

"The main problem," said Arya, "is that the only person who can reasonably be expected to find Eragon and Saphira is a Rider, and yet Riders are the people we can least afford to spare."

There were twelve of them – Nasuada, the werecat Mistofflees, Orrin, Orik, Murtagh and Thorn (because both of them had been adamant about the fact that it was both of them, or neither), Arya and Firnen (because if Thorn could come, then so could Firnen), which meant that brown Faarheim came with the dwarven Rider Kordath and the orange Rarna with the urgal Rider Advek. Considering the fact that the council room wasn't built to hold four dragons, they'd had to set up a table and chairs in Galbatorix's old throne room.

Well, it was Nasuada's now, and it looked vastly different with multicolored tapestries instead of Shruikan forming the décor, but all the same…

Bad memories. Bad.

_Pay attention,_ chided Thorn, nudging Murtagh in the shoulder.

_You pay attention. _

"But the only way to get more Riders is to find them," said Nasuada. There were lines on her face now, circling her eyes and mouth. "Or do you believe that Eragon will send the hatched dragons back to us?"

"Twenty years is more than enough time." King Orrin was in his sixties, he was thin as a rail, and Murtagh didn't like him. "It takes a dragon what, a year to grow? Either they're all dead, or they've forgotten us."

"I hardly think Eragon would forget us," said Arya softly. "Not his homeland. Not those he cares about."

"Agreed," said Orik. "Eragon would not abandon us."

"Well, then, they're dead," said Orrin. "And I don't know about you, but I seem to remember him flying off and leaving us plenty of times before."

Arya shook her head, smiling. "But he always came back. And then –" her eyebrows arched mischievously "– he would explain his absence so that even you couldn't protest."

"We're not discussing Eragon," said Kordath impatiently, one of her many auburn braids looped through her fingers. "We're discussing what to do because he's not here."

"I say we fly after him," grunted Advek. "So what if one of us is lost? If the other dragons do not return, then we are doomed anyway."

_And if they do,_ added his dragon, _then the loss of one Rider and dragon will not be such a tragedy._

"Every loss is a tragedy," murmured Arya.

"Yes, that _would_ be a dragon's response," said Orrin. " 'For death and glory,' huh? Only problem is, that's not how the world works anymore."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Nasuada mildly. "But perhaps there's a less risky solution?"

"Someone's got to fly after them," said Kordath. "There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The question is…who?"

The room went silent as everyone stared at the four Riders, evaluating. Murtagh felt eyes on him and looked down at the polished wood of the table instead. _Thorn, do you think we should? To be honest, you're probably the strongest flier out of all the dragons, and – _He was about to add _we probably wouldn't be as missed if we died _but stopped himself in time.

_So you want to?_

_ Well, unless someone else volunteers…_

"Are you sure there aren't any eggs left? In Vroengard, maybe?" asked Nasuada.

_None. _All four dragons were very emphatic. _He took them all._

"And the Eldunari too?"

"They're all with him," said Arya. "They weren't safe here."

"Huh, that's what _he_ said," snorted Orrin. "And now look at the predicament he's left us in."

"His plan was for a Rider to come find him," said Arya. "Then they could bring more eggs back, and maybe some Eldunari too."

"Are you volunteering to do it?" said Kordath.

Arya stared at her. "Maybe," she said eventually, eyebrows raised. "If no one else is willing."

"I am not going," grunted Advek. "I do not want to risk Rarna flying that far, not yet." He smiled at his dragon, who barely cleared eight feet at the shoulder, and Rarna pushed her wedge-shaped muzzle into his neck with obvious affection.

_We'll go,_ said Faarheim. _Willingly._ Kordath nodded vigorously, braids bobbing.

There was a few seconds of silence. Then Nasuada said, "Well, if it's between the two of you –"

With a thump, Mistofflees jumped onto the table, black fur gleaming. _We haven't heard from you, Thorn and Murtagh._

_Oh._ Murtagh glanced up at Thorn. "We would be willing to go, of course."

"You've probably got the most endurance out of all of us," said Kordath speculatively. "But me and Faarheim are probably the fastest."

_Probably,_ snorted Firnen.

_You haven't outflown me yet, pretty boy. _

"I don't think Arya should go," said Nasuada. "It's too much to risk, with you being queen."

"That's not a problem," said Arya coolly. "My people are fully capable of choosing a regent, or gods forbid, a successor. Besides, a queen's duty is to serve her people, and a Rider's, her world. My status did not stop me when I was a princess, and it won't stop me now."

"Well, I think –"

_The question is,_ said Mistofflees, _which of you has the least to lose._ And his yellow eyes went straight to Murtagh.

Murtagh let out a slow breath. "He's right," he said. Everyone turned to him in surprise, but he ignored them. "We're not as needed as Arya. We can go –"

"I beg to differ," said Nasuada sharply. "You may be a Rider, but you are still my archagent. You are very much needed, _here_."

_We've sworn no oaths,_ rumbled Thorn. _We can leave if we wish_

Nasuada raised her eyebrows, looking directly at Thorn. "Is that a challenge?"

"This is pointless!" said Arya, slapping the table. Mistofflees, who had settled himself in a furry ball, cracked an eye open to glare at her. "I'll go. End of story." She glared at the others. "And I'd like to see any of you try and stop me."

"I don't think anyone will," chuckled Orik. "Very well, if that's what you and Firnen want –"

_It is._

"– then the dwarves don't see a problem." He grinned at Kordath. "Unless Kordath objects, of course."

She smirked back. "Why in Guntera's name would I?"

"I speak for the Herndall when I say they will not mind," said Advek.

"Oh, go if you must," said Nasuada. "I expect Eragon would rather see you than any of us, anyway."

"Are we all voting now?" said Orrin. "Sure. Go ahead. Unless…" He looked sideways at Murtagh.

_Murtagh, this is our last chance to go._

_ I don't know, Thorn. It doesn't feel right. Besides, I think Arya has more invested in this anyway._

_ And what are we going to do in the meantime? Sit on our behinds and keep order in Nasuada's kingdom? _

_ Quiet, Thorn._

_ No! It's been twenty years, I'm tired of waiting around for –_

_ I said _quiet. "Go with our blessing, Arya," said Murtagh quietly. "We won't challenge you."

_Bastard. _

_ Overgrown lizard._

_ Prick. _

"Well, I guess that settles things," said Nasuada. "Unless…"

"I have a question," said Advek. "Will you be bringing anyone back with you? I was aware several elves accompanied Eragon."

"I don't know," said Arya. "Perhaps if there are one or two who wish to return…"

"And what about Eragon?" asked Orik. "Do you think he will come back?"

If Murtagh hadn't been looking at Nasuada, he wouldn't have seen it. But at Orik's question her face had tightened and her back straightened.

Arya shrugged. "I'm not sure," she said quietly. "But…I think he will stay." And some of the wariness left Nasuada's face.

Murtagh frowned. _Thorn, can you do me a favor?_

_ …What?_

_ Tell Elva I want to talk to her as soon as we're done._

_ Fine._

_ Thanks, bud. _

"So is that everything?" said Orrin.

"Yes, I suppose it is," sighed Nasuada, rising. Everyone else got to their feet as well, Mistofflees arching his back and yawning widely. "I hope you all can be persuaded to stay for dinner?"

"It would be mine pleasure," said Orik, bowing. "Kordath's as well."

"I am afraid we must fly," said Advek. "But the offer is appreciated."

Everyone began filing out of the room, either accepting or declining, led by the flag of Mistofflee's upright tail. Murtagh took his time getting up, waiting for the others to clear. _Is Elva coming?_

_ She's waiting outside the door._

_Right._ Murtagh walked out of the throne room and sure enough, Elva was there, wearing a powder-blue gown and with her dark hair coiled behind her head. "Elva."

"Murtagh." She curtsied, a slight smile curving her lips. She was almost as tall as he was. "Thorn said you wanted to talk?"

"Yes." They fell into step together, pacing down the hallway some distance behind the others, Thorn trailing them. "It's about Nasauda."

"Mm." Elva clasped her hands behind her back, looked ahead of her. "What do you want to know?"

"I –" Murtagh hesitated, unsure of how much he should tell Elva. "When we were in there, discussing the possibility of Eragon's return, Nasuada had an …unusual… reaction."

"Ah." Elva's purple eyes, disquieting as ever, flashed to his. "She's scared of him, you know."

"_Scared?_" Of all the people who feared Eragon, Nasuada should not be one of them. "What on Alagaesia for?"

"She fears that if he comes back, he could usurp her position. It's far-fetched, I know. But she still fears it – and she hasn't been confident about the security of her rule for a long, long time."

"But why would she fear Eragon?"

"You didn't hear what he told her before he left," said Elva dryly. "Well, technically, I didn't either, but those words caused Nasuada enough anxiety that I had ample opportunity to memorize them."

"What did he _say?_" Murtagh had always been on the fence when it came to Eragon, but this was pushing things decidedly against him…

"He flat-out told her he was the most powerful person in Alagaesia and that if he wanted to take her throne, no one could stop him."

"_No._"

"He did. And I quote, 'I've become _too _powerful. As long as I'm here, your authority – and that of Arya, Orik, and Orrin – will always be in doubt. If I asked them to, most everyone in Surda, Tierm, and your own kingdom would follow me. And with the Eldunari to help me, there is no one who can stand against me, not even Murtagh or Arya.'"

"He said that? The little sh-t."

"Well, I'm glad someone agrees with me."


	14. 22 years, 10 months, 19 days later

Arya left early, early in the morning, before the sun was even up. Murtagh, on the other hand, had to stay – Nasuada had business to discuss. But they were done before noon, and Murtagh was striding down the hallway, eager for him and Thorn to fly home, when –

"Murtagh!"

He rocked to a halt to avoid running into Ajira. "My lady."

She laughed. "I told you, don't do that." She took a step towards him, and Murtagh wondered if Nasuada knew about the low cut of her bodice. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid so." She was standing right in front of him, and he couldn't push past her without being rude. "Thorn and I have several responsibilities to attend to."

"Surely you couldn't put them off for just a _little_ longer?" Ajira smiled at him, and then she _batted her eyelashes._

"I really don't think so, no –"

"Mother's told me an awful lot about you," said Ajira, her voice suddenly much softer. Murtagh, about to walk by her and manners be damned, stopped in surprise. "About what you did for her."

"Oh." Murtagh wasn't sure how to respond to that. "It was – I could do no less."

"Really?" Ajira stepped even closer to him, so that the hem of her skirt brushed his boots. "I'm sure it was very brave."

_Oh, _hell_ no…_ "I'm sorry, but I really do have to go." And he pushed in between her and the wall, striding off towards where Thorn was waiting.

"Wait!" Ajira ran up next to him. "When will you come back to Uru'baen?"

"Whenever your mother has need of me." And before she could say anything else he was outside and climbing onto Thorn's back.

Thorn was shaking with dragonish laughter. _I think she likes you._

_Shut up, Thorn._


	15. 22 years, 11 months, 3 days later

Murtagh had never been one for sunsets; to take the time to sit and watch one had always seemed rather pointless. But from where he and Thorn were sitting, on the edge of a cliff in the Spine, overlooking the western ocean, the view was nothing less than spectacular.

_I could get used to a view like this,_ said Murtagh, leaning back on his hands. His legs were dangling off the edge of the cliff; after over twenty years of being a Rider, his fear of heights was pretty much nonexistent. _Think this is a good place?_

Thorn snorted. _We'll just have to make sure none of the new Riders fly their hatchlings off the edge._

_ That'll be your job._

_ Lovely. Just what I wanted. To spend the rest of my life watching hatchlings – _

_ Oh, come on. It won't be that bad. _Murtagh nudged Thorn in the ribs. _You'll actually get to be around other dragons._

_ Would you want to spend the rest of your life surrounded by children?_

_ In ten years it won't even matter, you guys grow so quickly. Besides, Arya said some wild dragons are coming back with her. _Murtagh looked back at Thorn, who was curled around Murtagh in a semi-circle. _Aren't you excited about that? _

Thorn grunted. _Maybe._

With a little pushing, Murtagh got to Thorn's emotions, and what he found made him grin. _You _are_ excited, you big doofus! Stop trying to hide it._

_Am not._

_ Yes, you are._

Giving up, Thorn cracked a grin, exposing all his fangs. _Fine. Yes. I am. Even if it means we're the ones stuck teaching all the new Riders…_

_ It makes sense, Thorn. We've got the most experience out of any of them, except maybe Arya, and she's too busy being queen. _Thorn continued to grouse, and Murtagh punched him lightly on the leg. _Look, everyone else thought this was a good idea when I told them. You're the only one who doesn't._

_ When I said you should do something great, I didn't mean playing nurse-maid to a bunch of children and hatchlings!_

_ Thorn, this is important and you know it. _Murtagh meditated for a moment. _In fact, I can't really think of anything _more _important. Except what Arya's doing._

_ Bluh. _

_ Oh, stop it. Honestly, Thorn, you're such a grumblebutts sometime._

_ …_

_ What?_

_ What did you just call me?_

_ A – a grumblebutts?_

With a snort, Thorn raised his head to look at Murtagh. _Where by the shards of the First Shell did you _ever_ hear that term? _

_ My, uh – my nanny. When I was little._

_ Typical. _Thorn laid his head back down on the ground. _The things you humans come up with. _

_ Oh, please. _Murtagh drummed his heels against the rocky cliff, looked out at the salmon bands of cloud streaking the golden sky. A warm sea breeze ruffled his hair, and he sighed contentedly. Behind him, Thorn rolled onto his side, stretching his legs and neck with a tight sound in the back of his throat. Murtagh distinctly heard several joints pop and turned around. _Was that you?_

_ Shut up._ Thorn stretched again, arching his back so the broad overlapping scales on his stomach lifted and separated, exposing bands of his pale red skin. Acting on impulse, Murtagh reached over and tickled Thorn's stomach.

Thorn froze with a _whuff_ of expelled air. _What are you doing?_

Murtagh didn't answer, just dug his fingers into the leathery skin. Thorn began to growl in little coughing spurts, his tail twitching. Laughing, Murtagh rubbed harder until Thorn rolled over onto his back, his front legs curled up over his chest. Murtagh climbed up on top of his stomach and continued scratching until the growling was a steady purr and Thorn was broadcasting a sense of complete satisfaction.

Amused though Murtagh was, he might have been able to keep his composure. Might. If only Thorn hadn't, at the last moment, turned his head to the side and opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out over his teeth in the biggest, dorkiest, doggy grin Murtagh had ever seen.

And Murtagh lost it. Paroxysms of laughter curled him up in a helpless ball of hilarity on Thorn's stomach, heedless of Thorn's warning growls. _Murtagh. Murtagh, stop this now. You are being ridiculous._

I'm _being ridiculous? Did you see yourself – _More laughter rendered Murtagh speechless. _You looked like a dog…_

Thorn's growl vibrated through his stomach and into Murtagh. _I resent any comparison to one of your stupid barkbeasts. Now get off me, my wings hurt._

Still chuckling, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Murtagh slid off and walked forward so Thorn had room to roll back onto his stomach. _You have to admit, it was pretty funny._ He looked sideways at Thorn, battling laughter again. _At least now we know you like tummy rubs – _

_Do not even _dare.

_Fine, fine, fine._ Murtagh sensed Thorn's huffiness would be short-lived and walked over to the edge of the cliff, staring out at the sea. The view really was breathtaking, he had to admit.

_Although...the sensation was rather enjoyable._

Murtagh, his back safely to Thorn, smirked. _Are you saying you'd want me to do that again?_

_ …Maybe._

_ You got it, pal,_ Murtagh laughed. And Thorn laughed too, scooting forward so his head was next to Murtagh's. Chucking him under the chin, Murtagh looped his arm under Thorn's jaw. The sun had touched the edge of the sea now, and sky and water alike were part of a glorious conflagration –

High above them sounded the roar of a dragon.

Thorn and Murtagh both whipped their heads up. There, silhouetted against the lavender sky, flew dragons, one two three four _five_ of them, streamlined and majestic. Thorn rose up on his hind legs with outspread wings and bugled up at them, nearly deafening Murtagh. The flying dragons answered back, circling around. One of them split off, swooped down, and Murtagh saw it was Firnen, scales gilded in the light of the setting sun. _You're back! _he shouted to Arya.

_We are, indeed!_ Firnen landed on the cliff top, the wind from his wings sending dust and pine needles flying everywhere. Arya leapt off him, face glowing, and began unbuckling Firnen's saddle. "You probably want to get Thorn's off, too!" she called.

"Probably!" Murtagh turned to Thorn, who was literally vibrating, and began to unbuckle the straps. _Bet you're glad we came up with a simpler saddle design, aren't you?_

Thorn didn't answer; his entire attention was focused on the dragons in the sky, and a thin whining growl slipped through his teeth.

_There! _The saddle slipped off and Thorn sprang into the air, one of his wings clipping Murtagh under the chin and knocking him to the ground, all the breath leaving his lungs in a solid _oof!_

"Are you all right?" said Arya, rushing forward to help him up. Murtagh grinned ruefully and accepted her assistance, rubbing his jaw.

"That's going to leave a mark," he quipped. Arya laughed and turned her face towards the sky, where Thorn and Firnen were winging their way up to the other dragons. Soon the entire flight was twisting and turning in the sky, forming joyful spiraling patterns around each other.

Murtagh turned to Arya, his own happiness fueled by Thorn's exuberance. "So I take it you found Eragon and the others all right?"

She nodded, smiling. "They're doing just fine, the elves too. They really found a wonderful location to raise the eggs, a canyon in the middle of the desert, next to an oasis. It's working out beautifully."

"I'm sure Firnen was happy to see Saphira."

Arya glanced at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Oh, you have _no_ idea."

Murtagh laughed. "I hope there's at least one lady dragon up there, for Thorn's sake."

"There's three, actually. So he should have plenty of choice."

"Ah, well, in that case…" Murtagh grinned, watching Thorn attempt some ludicrously complex piece of aerial acrobatics. _Don't strain yourself, buddy._

Thorn didn't acknowledge him. Murtagh laughed again and looked back at Arya. "So you brought eggs?"

"Twenty of them, all waiting for the right Rider. And five Eldunari, too. Eragon was loath to part with them, but…I convinced him we needed their wisdom as much as he did. Besides, I don't think all of them were happy raising hatchlings anyway."

"Thorn's not too keen on the idea either."

Arya laughed. "Well, he would be. Firnen's _thrilled._ I think he secretly thinks of himself as their sire."

"Are any of the eggs his?"

"Not the ones that I brought back. Saphira had an egg that hatched several years after they arrived in the canyon. Apparently she'd been brooding over it the entire time, wouldn't let anyone but Eragon even look at it." She pointed to one of the dragons, a slighter one that looked to be a dark blue. "That's her daughter."

"Oh." Murtagh picked out Thorn with his mind. _See any you like?_

_ There are other DRAGONS!_ The joy and excitement bubbling out of him made Murtagh laugh.

No, Murtagh had never been one for sunsets. But he had to admit, this one was just fine.


	16. 23 years, 7 months, 18 days later

The morning sun slanting through the window in Uru'baen was pleasantly warm on Murtagh's face. He was seated on a cushioned wall seat, his head tipped back against the wall, and it was taking all his willpower just to stay awake. Construction on the buildings to house the new Riders and hatchlings was not going as quickly as Nasuada wanted; Murtagh and Thorn had been up until the early hours of the morning, making sure everything was finished before Murtagh had to report to Nasuada. Murtagh and Thorn were running on four, maybe five hours of sleep – between the two of them.

He'd managed to stay awake while talking to Nasuada, but now, waiting for her to return from discussing god knows what with the earls funding the project, he was perilously close to slumber. Thorn was already out, curled up in the sun. _Perhaps,_ thought Murtagh muzzily, _if I close my eyes…just for a second…can't hurt…_

"My God, you look absolutely worn out."

Murtagh cracked his eyes open and turned his head to the side. Ajira had seated herself next to him, her flame-colored dress glowing in the sunlight.

"Mm." It was all Murtagh had the energy to say. Ajira settled herself closer to him, delicately rearranging her skirt.

"My mother says you were once very much in love with her," she said quietly.

_Once? Still. _

"But what she's never told me," continued Ajira, "is if she ever felt the same."

"She…wouldn't let herself," said Murtagh quietly. The memories were twenty years old, but they still stung.

"Well, I'm not that noble," said Ajira. And she leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were warm on his, and heavy. Murtagh, fuzzy with sleep deprivation, needed a second to process what was happening. But when he did, he put his hands on Ajira's shoulders…and gently but firmly pushed her away.

"That's the thing," he said. "I love Nasuada_._ And I'm old enough to be your father, even if I don't look it." She drew back, eyes lowered. "I'm sorry." And he was. He knew too well the pangs of rejected love.

But sorry as he was, he couldn't stay. Murtagh got up, walked to the door. He was about to open the door when Ajira said, "Don't tell my mother?"

Murtagh was tempted to say, _Don't you think she ought to know?_ But then he turned around and saw the tears sparkling in Ajira's eyes.

"I won't," he said. And then he left the room.


	17. 36 years, 4 months, 10 days later

**36 years, 4 months, 10 days later**

"Ebrithil!" Torrens, one of the oldest students, burst into Murtagh's study. "Ebrithil, have you heard? The king!"

Murtagh whipped around in his seat to stare at the teenager. "What about him? What's happened?"

Torrens, panting, took a moment to swallow. "He's dead."

"_What?_" Thorn, sunbathing outside, woke with a start. "_How?_"

"An – an accident while hunting," said Torrens. Murtagh noticed, with a strange sort of visual clarity, that the Rider's hands were shaking. "His horse took the landing of a jump wrong and he fell on his neck…"

"My God…" breathed Murtagh, leaning back in his chair. "When did this happen?"

"Maybe one or two hours ago. Katya's in Ilirea, she just contacted me and I, uh…I thought you should know."

"No, you did right." Murtagh stared at the map on his desk. The idea that the king was gone…it was staggering. Even if he was only the king consort.

"Sir?" Murtagh looked over at Torrens, saw that he was pale under his tan. "What should we do?"

Murtagh let out a long, slow breath. "Where's Taber?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I think he's overseeing the new supplies."

"Well, find him, and tell him what's happened – but don't tell anyone else. We'll make an announcement at dinner. I assume Ampora knows?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, see if you can keep him from telling the other dragons. You know how they gossip." _Thorn, can you keep eye on them?_

"He knows not to spread rumors, sir."

_I'll try. I don't think it'll do much, though._

"Good." _Yeah, well, it doesn't have to be for long. _Murtagh drummed his fingers on the desk, chewed his lip. "And…do you know how the queen is?"

"I – I don't know, sir. Katya didn't say."

"Right." For all he knew Nasuada – or thought he did – he couldn't picture how she would react. Was she distraught, weeping? Or was she hiding it all behind an iron mask? "Oh, Torrens, one more thing…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell Taber I'll be flying to Ilirea tomorrow."


	18. 36 years, 4 months, 12 days later

Nasuada didn't turn her head as Murtagh entered the room. She was seated at the window, body profiled in widow's black against the pearly grayness of the clouds, a veil covering her face.

"Nasuada?" he said quietly.

She looked at him, veil obscuring her features. "I thought you'd come."

He took a step forward, unsure of what to do, his heart aching for her. "Nasuada, I…"

"Look at you," she said bitterly. "You haven't aged a day." She turned back to the window, hand in a tight fist. "I suppose you think you can just walk back in here and start over, like the last thirty-five years never happened –"

"No. No, Nasuada, I would never –"

"– but that's not how it works." She lifted her veil over her head and looked right at him. "Those years are gone."

There were lines around her mouth. Deep lines. More on her forehead. Silver frosted her hair, and he couldn't tell if the bags under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights or just the passing of time.

And yet, she was still beautiful.

It didn't matter that she looked like this, that she'd married another man and born him a daughter and probably loved him too, that she and Murtagh stood on opposite sides of an ever-widening gulf. He still loved her with every fiber of his being.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I truly am."

"No, you're not," said Nasuada, looking away again. "You're probably glad."

"Glad you're in pain? Nasuada –"

"I'm not in pain!" she snapped, jumping up and striding away from the window with a hand splayed across her stomach. Murtagh watched her with an aching heart; he could feel Thorn's sympathy for both of them, and for a second he wished Nasuada was a Rider so that she could have a dragon of her own to curl up with, instead of pacing in front of him like a captured soldier.

"Nasuada…"

"I'm not!" And then her face crumpled and she brought a hand up to her mouth and Murtagh held his hands out and somehow she was sobbing into his chest while he wrapped his arms around her and resisted the urge to kiss her hair.

He didn't say "Shhh," or "There, now," or "It's all right," because they were only words, and meaningless ones at that. He just held on to her and let her cry herself out, even though every one of her tears went to his heart like a shard of glass.

Eventually her sobs quieted, but she didn't pull away, just laid her head against his chest. Murtagh's arms were beginning to tire but he didn't let go either. There was a question, though, that had come to him, and he very much wanted to ask it…

_Murtagh, don't. You'll only get hurt._

_ I don't care. I'd rather be hurt then spend the rest of my life wondering._

"Nasuada," said Murtagh slowly, "do you ever…regret what happened? How you lived your life?"

She looked up at him, eyes still wet, eyebrows pulled together. "Regret? Why would I? I loved my husband. I love my daughter. Why would I…" She sighed, looked away, giving Murtagh the chance to close his eyes against the stab of hurt in his chest. "I suppose… maybe… we could have had the same future. But why would I waste the life I have dreaming about the one I might have had?" Nasuada turned back to him, her shoulders tense under his hands, and Murtagh let his arms fall as he stepped away.

"I really am sorry for your loss," he said. "No matter what you may think."

"I know you're sorry," said Nasuada quietly. "That was…cruel of me, earlier." She took a deep breath, then stepped forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Thank you," she said, with heartfelt sincerity. "Truly."

Murtagh just nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. His chest felt tight and his eyes were stinging and he was finding it hard to breathe.

"Murtagh?" Nasuada's brows contracted. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't. He simply couldn't. "Until next time," he managed to choke, and then he all but ripped his hand from Nasuada's in his hurry to get out of the room.

His mental cry to Thorn as he rushed through the dim hallways was wordless; he didn't know what he wanted other than to simply reassure himself Thorn was there. And Thorn, thankfully, didn't try to figure out why he was upset; he just sent him wordless sympathy.

Murtagh stopped himself in an empty hall far away from everyone else. Standing against a wall, he tipped his head back and tried to breathe calmly. _It's all right. Get a grip on yourself. Stop this now. _

_Murtagh, someone's coming._

_What?_ Murtagh pushed himself away from the wall, eyes scanning the darkened corridor. _Who?_

_ Elva. _And there she was.

"Hello, Murtagh," she said, walking towards him. "So you've seen Nasuada."

"Yes," said Murtagh tightly. He wasn't in a mood to put up with her sarcasm, not now. But Elva, as always, surprised him.  
>"Don't worry about her," she said softly. "She's strong. She'll get over it quickly enough. And you know I'll help her."<p>

"I know," said Murtagh, sighing.

"I'm here to help her. And I'll help Ajira when Nasuada dies." Murtagh's insides twisted painfully. "After that…"

"…What? After that, what?"

Elva looked straight at him. "When Ajira dies, I'll kill myself."

"Wh – What?" Of all the people to be suicidal, he would never have thought _Elva_ – "Why?"

"Because I'll have lived a full span of years. Thanks to Eragon's spell, I'm essentially immortal. As long as there's people to be helped – as long as there's pain in the world – I'll _endure…_" Bitter lines appeared on her face, and she looked away. "That's not the kind of existence I want to prolong. No, when Ajira dies, I'll know my time is up."

"I can – I can remove the spell, you know," said Murtagh. "So you won't have to do that."

"I know," said Elva. "But if you remove it…then what? Then I descend into senility and old age like any other person. No, it's best like this. This way I help people up until the day I die, and then – it's a clean death. Poison, or a knife to the wrists, maybe. Much neater than a stroke or lingering illness."

Either way, he didn't want to think about it. "I – I guess…"

"Everyone dies, Murtagh," said Elva quietly. "Everyone. Peasants and soldiers, kings and queens…even Riders and their dragons. I'm going to die. Nasuada will, too. Galbatorix died, and someday Eragon will, and someday you will too. It's inevitable."

She had to know how hopeless her words made him feel, how they opened up a gaping black pit inside of him. But she offered no hope, no comfort, just watched him with a tiny smug smile curving her lips.

"Why is it," said Murtagh slowly, "you never attempt to…ease _my_ pain? You help Nasuada without a second thought, and yet…"

"You're not my responsibility," said Elva. Her lips quirked in a humorless smile. "Besides, it's good for you Riders to suffer now and again. Otherwise you lose touch with the rest of us mortals."

Elva's powers only worked on pain that was definitely to come. So she couldn't see how angry he was, how he wanted to smash her porcelain throat and break her skull against the wall and see the light leave those mocking purple eyes, how he wanted to see blood run from the corners of that smug smile and see her lips turn to lavender ice for suggesting that he _didn't feel pain._

Thorn was worried. _Easy, buddy…_

_ I've got it under control._ And he did. Not even his fingers twitched. He jerked his head in the barest shadow of a nod. "Thank you, Elva."

She sketched him a curtsy in return. "Anytime."


	19. 41 years, 0 months, 29 days later

Murtagh flipped open the lid of one of the caskets Arya had given him and looked at the Eldunari inside. Looked, not touched, and he made no attempt to mentally contact it either. He just watched the swirling bands of light, ranging from deep teal to glassy sea-green.

_Thorn,_ said Murtagh slowly, _this is going to sound really weird, but…I think your Eldunari would be really pretty._ He could imagine it clearly, the crystal shining crimson and burgundy like a glass of wine held up to the sun…

Dozing outside, Thorn snorted. _I don't plan on making one._

_ Why?_

_ I don't want that sort of existence. To merely be a mind, trapped in a piece of rock for all eternity, separated from body and essentially powerless over one's fate. No. _Thorn curled up, shifting to a better position under the late afternoon sun. _When I die, let me die for once and for all._


	20. 57 years, 8 months, 5 days later

_I can't – I can't do this, Thorn, I can't – _

_ It's okay._

_ I can't, Thorn I can't I can't –_

_ I'll be with you the entire time. Promise. _

_ Okay. _Murtagh took a deep breath and knocked on Nasuada's door.

Ajira opened it. For a second she and Murtagh stared at each other. There were circles under her eyes, and the hard planes of her face made her look far, far too old.

But it wasn't Ajira he was here to see.

"Who is that?" He couldn't see Nasuada, but he could hear her, her voice having achieved that certain quality that only age and tooth loss could cause. "Ajira, who's there?"

"It's Murtagh, Mother," she said quietly, and stepped out of the way so Murtagh could walk into the room of the fading queen.

Nasuada lay in the great canopied bed, her slight figure drowning in pillows and blankets and velvet comforters. When she saw Murtagh, her wrinkled face creased into a smile that showed more gaps than teeth, and she pointed one withered finger at him. "You always do manage to show up at the very end, don't you?"

Murtagh managed a smile and crossed over to her, sitting on the side of the bed. "You bet," he said, taking her hand. It was trembling, and he swallowed hard against sudden alarm. "I just can't seem to stay away."

Her skin was wrinkled and papery in a hundred different places, the hints of liver spots visible under the dark brown. Her hand in his was shrunken, veiny, and her hair was coarse white down. But her eyes were as bright and dark as ever.

"Ajira," she demanded, looking towards her daughter, "go find General Carter for me. I want to talk to him."

"Yes, Mother," said Ajira. The door shut quietly behind her.

"My God, look at you," said Nasuada, smiling. "You look twenty-four and fit as a fiddle." Her eyes traced his features, studying. "Your ears have gone pointy, though."

"Yeah." Murtagh ran a hand over one, still self-conscious about the way his body was changing. "Curse of being a Rider."

Nasuada chuckled. Sick as she was, old and frail as she was, she could still laugh, and suddenly all Murtagh wanted to do was cradle her shrunken figure against him and insist everything was going to be okay.

"All these years…" said Nasuada. "All these years, you've served me so faithfully…I feel I must owe you a great deal."

"Nothing." Murtagh's voice got choked up, and he had to blink hard. His fingers started to tighten on Nasuada's before he remembered how very, very fragile she was. "You don't owe me a thing."

"But I do." Nasuada reached up to stroke his cheek with one bent finger. "At the very least, I owe you an apology…for never telling you how very much I loved you."

Murtagh closed his eyes, her fingers cool and paper-dry against his skin, and bit his lip against the throbbing hurt in his chest.

"And I know I tried to fight it," Nasuada continued. " But sometimes –" and her hand trailed down his neck, down to his chest "– sometimes something lives deep inside you that you can't get rid of." She laid her hand over his heart; he could feel his pulse beating under her palm. "Sometimes you just don't realize it until it's too late."

Murtagh opened his eyes to look at her, and he didn't know what to say, what to think, what to feel. All he knew was that everything inside him was aching and he still loved her so, so much and oh gods, he had no idea what he was going to do…

_It's all right, Murtagh. I'm here._

"Mother?" Murtagh and Nasuada looked at the open door, where Ajira stood next to a tall man with a graying braid. "What did you want to see General Carter for?"

Nasuada stared at him, lips pursed. "I don't remember," she said. "Send him away."

Ajira and the general exchanged a look, and then he left, shutting the door behind him. "Is there anything else you want?" said Ajira, walking around to sit on the other side of the bed.

"Get me a glass of water."

"You've got one already."

"It's gone stale. Fetch me another."

Ajira looked from Nasuada to Murtagh, eyes flicking to their hands. Then she very deliberately got up and walked to the door, closing it behind her without a sound.

Nasuada's hand on his chest was shaking. Murtagh took it in his, folding her hands together and tucking them under his collarbone. "Do you ever wonder," said Nasuada, "what our life might have been like…if we'd been together?"

He could see it all. Him at Nasuada's side, their wedding and the night after, their children, Nasuada becoming Alagaesia's most glorious queen because she had him there to back her up, an entire lifetime passing before his eyes in brief, sun-tinted scenes…

And yet, they arrived at the same place. With him crouched over her sickbed, unable to keep Time from taking its toll.

Slowly, Murtagh leaned forward and kissed Nasuada on her withered lips.

They were cool under his, and slightly soft. He only kissed her for a second – a strange, bittersweet second – and then he pulled back.

"All the time," he said. "But it would still end exactly the same."


	21. 57 years, 8 months, 9 days later

Murtagh woke suddenly in the pre-dawn grayness, sure someone had called his name. Instinctively, he looked over to Thorn, curled up on his dais across the room. Thorn's head was up and his eyes were open, and he was looking right at Murtagh.

_She's gone, pal,_ he said quietly, mental voice laced with sympathy.

_What? _Thorn's tone should have been enough of a clue. But Murtagh was willing to put off the truth a little longer. _Who – who's gone?_

_ Nasuada. _Thorn looked sadly at him. _Not – not five minutes ago._

Gone.

Gone, as in…dead.

There was nothing to think.

And nothing to feel, either, nothing to breathe. Murtagh sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stared around at his and Thorn's old room, seeing every detail in painful clarity.

_…Murtagh?_

There wasn't enough air inside. Murtagh stumbled out on numb legs onto the adjoining terrace. To make landing and takeoff easier for Thorn, it didn't have a rail, so Murtagh could stand right on the edge, the flagstones cold and rough under his feet, the breeze cutting through his thin shirt and breeches and ruffling his hair. Ilirea stretched out before him, gray, hazy, and silent.

A dry sound behind him announced Thorn's approach as his scales and claws scraped over the stones. Soon he'd settled down next to Murtagh, crossing his front legs and looking over the city.

_Did…how did… _Murtagh couldn't frame the words, not even with his mind. _How did she…_

_ Her heart stopped in her sleep. It was very peaceful._

He couldn't…couldn't comprehend it. It didn't make sense. Surely Nasuada wasn't _gone_, she couldn't be, not her…surely she was just still asleep…

High above them, an iron bell tolled, announcing the death of the queen.

It pealed out slow and mournful over the silent city, and every throb of it went right through Murtagh. Somehow his legs lost the will to stand and he found himself on his knees, kneecaps stinging from sudden contact with hard rock. His stomach hurt – _she was gone – _his chest hurt – _she was GONE – _everything hurt until he couldn't take it and finally let the tears claw their way out of him.

Thorn crooned in shared pain and pushed his head next to Murtagh. Wrapping his arms around Thorn's muzzle, Murtagh pushed his face against the warm scales and cried brokenly, only half-trying to control it and not even sure why he cared. Thorn's wing, smooth and leather-soft, extended around them so it was just Murtagh and Thorn in their own dark crimson world.

_I'm sorry, buddy,_ said Thorn, over and over. _I'm so, so sorry. _

Murtagh just clung tighter, his face a wet and soggy mess, feeling Nasuada slowly being ripped away from him and leaving a gaping wound in her place. _Don't leave me, Thorn,_ he begged. _Don't ever leave me…_

_Never. _Thorn pushed his head closer, rumbled deep in his chest. _Never as long as I live. _

_ Not ever. _Tears were clogging Murtagh's throat and his nose was running but he didn't care, he wasn't letting go of Thorn. _Never never never – _

_ You are my soulmate and brother and best friend – _

– _I'll never have someone like you, never ever – _

– _and we'll never be apart, not as long as we're alive – _

– _no one can pull us apart, not wars or famines or rulers or wizards –_

– _or time or space or a thousand bloody spears – _

– _and even when we die, we won't be apart –_

– _they'll turn us into stars and place us in the night sky –_

– _and as long as there's stars we'll still be together – _

– _and if those stars die all the light that made my stars –_

– _and all the light that made mine – _

– _will come together in the deep heavens, and we'll make a new sun –_

– _and it'll be just the two of us, always forever._

Something warm and wet splashed into the crook of Murtagh's elbow. Raising his head, he saw the dark patch on his sleeve and traced the sparkling trail of a tear all the way up to Thorn's wine-red eye.

THE END

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry, Murtagh. I'll give you a happier ending next time, swear. <em>


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